


Thank You for Being You

by BepsiBitch69



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BepsiBitch69/pseuds/BepsiBitch69
Summary: Harry comes back to the common room later than usual after a particularly long session with Umbridge. Hermione is waiting for him. 5th Year, Oneshot.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 120





	Thank You for Being You

**Thank You for Being You**

Harry didn't allow the smile to drop into a scowl until the door closed. It wouldn't do to show Umbridge just how much the Blood Quill was really hurting him. Her face, consistently screwed up into a frustratingly smug smile made him want to hit something, preferably her, though he knew that would never end well. Seeing his Firebolt chained to the wall didn't help matters either. He loved that broom.

He turned from the door, and was only aware of just how faint he was feeling when he misplaced his foot and almost fell. He laughed slightly, unsteadily, as he used his healthy hand to grip a small stone ledge in the wall. When he was certain he wasn't going to drop again, he started to move again. He turned his other hand over, frowning at it. The blood flowed freely, though that wasn't new, and he was used to it hurting, but he was positive that there was more pain than usual. Did the Blood Quill cut deeper than usual? She had been making him use it for about an hour longer than usual. Had he cut into the muscle, or a nerve ending? Was that why he felt so suddenly faint? It felt like it was on fire tonight.

The walk back to Gryffindor tower was a lot slower than he would have liked. Not for the first time, he was thankful that his 'detention' sessions were so much later than usual. He'd clocked on pretty quickly that that was only for Umbridge's benefit, but it worked to his too. It meant nobody saw him slowly dragging himself along the wall cradling his hand. He felt a warmth on his cheeks and realised he was crying and was suddenly even more glad for the deserted corridors. He hadn't cried in front of anybody else for a very long time, since long before Hogwarts, and he wasn't going to break that streak now. That would just be embarrassing.

Almost half an hour later, Harry had just reached the top of the stairs at the foot of the portrait of the Fat Lady, and allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. His body sagged in that exhalation, as if he'd blown out the stress he'd been carrying. He was just tired now. It was almost midnight, and he just wanted to sleep. He morbidly considered what would happen if he died of blood loss in his sleep as he muttered the password to the painting. The Fat Lady gave him a sympathetic pout, and he flashed her a grin that he wasn't feeling which caused her to smile. When she'd closed behind him, he allowed himself a few moments to rest against the wall, and catch his breath. He wiped a small bead of sweat from his hairline. Those stairs had taken more out of him than he'd thought.

He raised his head at the sound of rustling paper. The fire was crackling low, and the orange glow that bathed the common room didn't quite beat the darkness out of the corners. He looked over to the bookcase on the far wall, and saw a familiar bushy head standing there, absentmindedly flicking through a book with a deep burgundy cover. He couldn't see the title. He smiled when he saw her, almost involuntarily. He moved to take a step.

There was nothing wrong with his legs, or his body or anything like that. No, he was quite certain he'd executed that simple movement of a footstep pretty phenomenally. And yet, he stumbled anyway, his foot catching on the lip of the portrait hole and sending him pitching forward. He didn't fall, but his heavy footsteps snapped Hermione Granger from her reading.

She slotted the book back onto the shelf, and turned again to him, making her way over.

"Hi Hermione," Harry said as he stood up fully, and the smile came easily this time.

"Hi Harry,"

"What are you doing up so late?"

She gave him an odd look. "Well I was waiting for you, obviously."

Harry allowed her to gently take his non-injured hand into hers, and she led him to the sofa that sat by the hearth of the fireplace, just adjacent to it. She sat him down, and let go of his left hand in favour of his ever stinging right. She knelt on the ground in front of him, and gingerly took it in both hands before making a noise that he wasn't quite sure how to identify until she started speaking.

"Oh Harry," she said softly, and he could hear the slight shift in pitch as she started to cry. "What's that monster doing to you?"

Harry started to internally panic. He couldn't stand the idea of Hermione being upset, and he knew that he had to try and sort it out.

"Hey, hey," he said, his voice low, his words just for her. "Don't cry Hermione. I'm okay, I promise."

She looked up at him, and the tears in her eyes almost broke Harry's heart right there.

"This is _far_ from okay, Harry." She swallowed, before nodding and letting go of his hand. She wiped her eyes, and turned to the low coffee table just behind her. For the first time, Harry noticed a bowl of liquid, the colour of which he couldn't quite tell from the fire's orange filter. Beside was a small roll of bandages, and some scissors. Hermione picked up her wand and allowed the tip to hover just barely over the freely bleeding wound. She muttered something he couldn't quite hear, and despite the low glow there seemed to be no effect. She muttered again, and the blood that soaked his hand disappeared. He realised that although the wound was still fresh, he wasn't bleeding anymore. Then, she dipped her fingers into the liquid, before taking Harry's hand with her own, and then slowly rubbing the Murtlap Essence onto his knuckles and above.

It hurt. It really, really stung, but Hermione's hands were gentle. When he tensed or hissed she'd stop immediately, and she showed no signs of impatience. She took a few seconds before she started to talk again, and when she did, Harry was happy to hear that she seemed to no longer be crying.

"You were gone longer than usual tonight. Did she have you doing it for longer? Or did you just start later?" She asked as her thumb rubbed small circles over the ' _ies'_ of the last word scrawled into his flesh.

Harry winced slightly, and Hermione's thumb became gentler, almost hovering above his skin. "No," he said. "It lasted longer. About an hour or so more. I think I've really damaged something because of it. I feel like those words are burning more than anything."

Hermione nodded, but didn't say anything. She didn't need to. Her eyes said it all, even as she looked down at the words on his hand, and seemed to be even gentler. He wondered what she was thinking.

"Why are you still up?" He asked. "Sorry, I'm very glad you are, don't misunderstand, but I thought you would have gone to sleep a while ago. You must be exhausted."

She looked up again, surprise on her face. "I was waiting for you."

"But surely you must be tired."

"Of course I was. But I was waiting for you."

There was a strange feeling inside of Harry at the simplicity of those words, and the way she said them that he just couldn't describe. He allowed his eyes to settle on her.

She was truly beautiful tonight. The fire caught the side of her face, yet somehow made her eyes glow like pools of honey. Her hair, which cascaded over her shoulders, was a bushy, curly carpet of brown that he struggled to look away from. When he did he was met with her face. He saw her small nose and her full cheeks and just how cute she looked with how much she was concentrating. Her tongue was poking out slightly over her bottom lip. He smiled at that. She saw his smile, and gave him one of her own, and it was as though the entire common room lit up. She had a dimple, and her teeth were white, and the way her eyes crinkled made that feeling inside of Harry come back.

"What?" she asked, still smiling and Harry gave her an inquisitive look. "You're smiling."

Harry laughed at that. "Am I not allowed to?"

She gave her own giggle. "Of course you are. I just haven't seen it in so long. I was wondering what you were smiling at?"

He looked at her. "You're a really beautiful person Hermione." He said softly.

She stopped moving her thumb at that, and their eyes locked. He saw something in them that he couldn't quite identify, and she looked down, moving onto the next word on his hand. The Murtlap Essence was working wonders.

"I don't think so Harry." She said, still smiling, but focusing on his hand now.

"Well, that's okay, because I _know_ so," he said, using that same matter-of-fact tone that she used when she said that particular phrase. She laughed slightly, recognising her own words.

Harry flinched slightly as she went over a particularly harsh spot, and she winced in apology. Harry waved his hand, before continuing to speak. "You really are 'Mione. I'm not kidding you know."

She looked up at him again, but didn't say anything.

"I mean sure, you are physically, but everybody knows that," He said. "But I mean as a person, you're so… beautiful. You're so kind and caring, and you don't even try. You don't do the right thing because it's ' _The Right Thing'_ you do it because to you, that's just what you do, you know? It's so effortless, and I don't think I've ever told you just how much I appreciate you for that, or how much I appreciate you for being… well, for being _you._ "

Her smile seemed to widen, and she bit her lower lip as she did so, looking down again at his hand again as she continued to slowly soothe in the Murtlap Essence to his wounds. He saw her biting the inside of her cheek and just how happy she really looked and he felt as though he was on top of the world, despite the horrific pain in his hand. She went over a particularly sore spot and he barely noticed.

"Not to mention that beautiful smile of yours," Harry said, not even sure what he was saying anymore. He was tired, and wasn't thinking before speaking right now. "I see it, and I just want to do whatever I can to keep it there. Is that weird?"

Hermione shook her head, still smiling but not saying anything.

It was in those moments that he was speaking without thinking that it finally clicked in his head. He really liked this girl. He had a connection with her that he'd just never had with anybody else. He'd had crushes before, but never had he felt like this. He leant forward, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It lasted a second or two before he pulled back slightly. He inhaled, the smell of apples on her hair so familiar, and so welcome.

"Thank you for being you, Hermione." He whispered, giving her another quick kiss to the forehead and leaning back slightly.

The common room was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire behind them. There was a bookcase on the wall beside the fireplace, and a red and gold rug that the table sat on. This was all in Harry's field of vision as he kept his gaze away from Hermione, embarrassed by his sudden show of affection for his best friend. Hermione's honey eyes locked onto his, and Harry's heart beat faster at that one simple look.

"Never change Harry Potter." Hermione smiled. She looked ready to cry again. Harry went to ask why, but she shook her head. "These are happy tears, Harry. Nobody's ever said anything like that to me before. I'm still trying to process it. Thank you."

Harry rubbed the back of his head with his free hand and laughed awkwardly. "No problem 'Mi." What the hell were happy tears?

"You're far too nice to me Harry. You always have been. You've always been willing to stick with me, and see things from my point of view when nobody else has. That… that means a lot to me, and I don't want you to think that it doesn't. You're amazing yourself Harry. Thank you for being _you._ "

Harry pulled a face and she laughed, and Harry couldn't help but laugh too, not even noticing that she had just finished applying the Murtlap Essence to his hand.

"All done Harry. Let me just put a bit more on top and bandage you up. It should dissolve in the shower tomorrow morning." Hermione said, picking up the bowl and tipping a small amount out. It had the consistency of honey, and she gently spread it with her index finger. She slowly and carefully wrapped his hand up, taking the scissors and cutting when shed given him three or four wraps. He hadn't been paying attention. He was too focused on her face.

_How had he not noticed just how amazing she was before?_

She looked up and smiled a smile that made his throat tighten. "All done."

_How long had he managed to look past this?_

"T-thank you again," he stuttered as she got to her feet, and he stood too.

_I hope I don't forget how this feels._

Harry stood there for a moment , and licked his lips. Hermione arched an eyebrow, and concern seemed to permeate her smile.

"Everything okay Harry? It's not hurting is it?"

And then he kissed her. He leant forward and pressed his lips against hers, resting his non-injured left hand on her waist as he did so. Hermione's eyes widened and she didn't do anything, and Harry was worried for a split second that he had misread the situation, but then her hands came up and cupped his face as she returned the kiss. It was slow and soft and slightly awkward, but neither of them really noticed that much.

They stood there for a few minutes, exploring this new dynamic steadily. Eventually they broke, and the hug that followed was so fluid it was as though they were on rails. Hermione's head fell against Harry's shoulder, and all of a sudden Harry never wanted it end.

"I think I love you, Hermione."

There was a snort from his shoulder. "Well that's okay, because I _know_ I love you."

Harry smiled, and he felt Hermione's mouth twitch against his shoulder. They sat back on the sofa together, and that was the last thing that he remembered before they both fell asleep there in each others arms, the gentle noise of the fire lulling them into a sleep. He didn't even notice the pain in his hand, or the happiness in his mind that stayed with him as he drifted off.


End file.
